So, maybe I deserved this after my "just short of incompetent" Coffee Cart Man post. Or maybe I'm just having bad luck with street vendors. Either way, I got duped today.
On my way into the Bryant Park subway station, I realized I'd forgotten my book. I stopped at the newsstand, and though I'm not exactly interested in what anorexic Terri Hatcher has to say, I asked for a copy of Vanity Fair. (Really, I just can't resist Graydon Carter's 2-page letter from the editor. No, not really.)
Because I worked late and had the hand off at dusk, I didn't realize until I was under the bright, and not so flattering, light of the F train, that I had just paid $4.50 for a used copy. Not only was it used, it was just plain gross. Poor, skinny Terri Hatcher was all scratched up and streaked with what looked like thin lines of tar, and the back was covered in what looked like petrified pink lollipop slobber. The magazine had obviously been read and was lacking some of that new magazine, Chanel No. 5-mixed-with-glue smell.
I know there are more important things to complain about in the world, but sometimes I get tired of thinking about public policy, my school work or whatever else I have to deal with every day, and just want to relax with a nice, clean copy of Vanity Fair. Is that too much to ask? Is it, Newsstand Man? IS IT?